


Ties that Bind

by msraven



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Family Feels, Fix-It, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Momma Coulson - Freeform, Presumed Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As with all things, it starts with Phil Coulson.  </p><p>How Clint finds love, family, and everything he told himself to stop looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting the Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghfan98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghfan98/gifts).



> WARNING: Mentions of past abuse
> 
> Written for the winning bidder of my AO3 Fundraiser Auction. Prompt will be posted at the end of the fic.

Clint will always say that his first meeting with the Coulsons is Phil’s fault.

Clint has just returned from a week-long, barely successful op. He’s tired and battered and just wants to crawl into his room to sleep for a few days. Considering that he was recruited into SHIELD for his sniper skills, Clint has spent surprisingly little of the past year and a half up high with a gun. The reason for this is less surprising - Coulson. 

There’s a note taped to Clint’s door, as if the man himself had anticipated where his asset’s thoughts would be upon returning to HQ. Clint knows without opening the folded piece of paper that it’s a summons to Coulson’s office. He sighs and turns away from his door. Leave it to Coulson to be working on Christmas Eve.

Clint makes his way slowly to his handler's office, resigning himself to a trip down to Medical afterward. He'll be reluctant to admit it, but like everything Coulson has insisted on since Clint joined SHIELD, it will be for his own good. It was Coulson who insisted Fury give Clint a contract instead of a jail cell, who pushed for the sniper to undergo full agent training, including flight school, and Coulson who continues to push his capabilities with more complex missions. Clint had been able to fool Sanders on their way back to HQ - the lead agent on the op distracted by being unexpectedly alive and his eagerness to spend the holiday with his family - but there is no way Coulson won’t notice Clint’s severely bruised, hopefully unbroken, ribs. 

Clint stares at Coulson’s closed door for a second before squaring his shoulders and swaggering in without knocking. “You wanted to see me, sir? Oh, sorry.” 

Coulson waves him inside and makes a motion for Clint to close the door, so he complies and stands at casual attention in front of his handler’s desk. With Coulson’s attention on the phone call and a little luck, Clint may just manage to get out of a trip to Medical if he limits his movements under Coulson’s watchful gaze. 

“What? Yes, that’s one of my agents,” Coulson says into his personal cell phone. “Yes, it’s Barton. Yes, I know it’s Christmas Eve. No, Ma, I don’t think he has other...I can ask. I wouldn’t do that. Well you can ask him yourself if you don’t trust me to.”

Clint has been fighting a grin throughout Coulson’s side of the conversation and outright gapes when the senior agent pulls the phone away from his ear and holds it out to Clint. Coulson just smiles at Clint’s expression and waits until he takes the phone. 

"Hello?" Clint says tentatively into the phone. 

"Hello, dear! Clint, isn't it?" Coulson's mother responds warmly. 

"Yes, ma'am," Clint replies automatically and turns incredulous eyes toward Coulson - why would Mrs. Coulson know his name?

Coulson only shrugs as his mother continues to talk. “Phillip says you may not have plans for the holiday. Is that right?”

“Uh...no, ma’am, I don’t have plans.” Clint winces once he realizes what he’s said - he’s a trained assassin, damn it. He looks up at a noise and glares at Coulson, who looks like he is barely holding back his laughter.

“That’s perfect then. Tell Phillip not to drive too fast and we’ll see you both in a few hours.” 

The line cuts out before Clint can say anything else. He looks down at the phone in his hand in utter confusion. “I have no idea what just happened.”

“It’s called my mother,” Coulson explains. “We’ve found it easier to just go along with it. I only plan on being there overnight, but pack a bag for a few days in case the snow is heavier than predicted. Meet me down at the garage in fifteen.”

Clint is wise enough to know when he’s beat and is waiting at Phil’s car with a small duffel at his feet after the appointed amount of time. 

“Wise man,” Coulson compliments as he throws both of their bags into the trunk of the car. Clint uses the open trunk as a shield to keep Coulson from seeing his grimace of pain as he gingerly lowers himself into the car. 

It’s not until they’re on the road and well out of the city that Clint asks where they’re going.

“My parents live in Hartford,” Coulson replies. “At least another hour and a half drive.”

“You told your mom I was one of your agents. What exactly do they think you do?” Clint asks. He doesn’t want to blow whatever Coulson’s cover story happens to be. 

“They think I work for the FBI.”

Clint nods. “Easier to maintain a lie that’s close to the truth,” he recites from training. This is the first time he’s ever needed a cover story. His string of one-night hookups rarely care enough to ask.

“That and I actually did work for the FBI before joining SHIELD,” Coulson says. “I just never mentioned switching divisions.”

A few minutes of comfortable silence passes before Clint finally asks, “Why does your mother know my name?”

“Because sticking close to the truth is always a good policy,” Coulson responds, “and you’re the reason I missed Christmas last year.”

“Oh,” Clint says dumbly. Coulson smiles at Clint’s apparent surprise. 

Even though Coulson is Clint’s main handler, they actually end up on very few ops together. Clint’s clearance level isn’t high enough for many of the ops Coulson leads and Coulson’s time is too valuable to waste on lower-level missions. 

A year ago, Clint had been loaned out as backup on what should have been a simple mission. The agent in charge had been too arrogant and inexperienced to see the ambush coming despite Clint’s warnings, resulting in his own death and Clint needing to put his life on the line to save the rest of the team. Clint had stopped counting the number of hits he’d taken by the time he dragged himself to the extraction site, amazed to find that they’d waited for him at the team’s insistence. Clint had, several days into the new year, woken from a medically induced coma believing he’d imagined Coulson’s hand firmly gripping his own and the sound of his handler’s soothing voice calming him through the haze of pain.

“Thank you,” Clint says softly, his face turned away and gaze focused firmly out the window, meaning so much more than Coulson sitting vigil at his bedside and knowing how inadequate it sounds. 

Coulson’s hand settles on Clint’s shoulder for a moment and squeezes. “Let’s just keep the comas to a minimum, okay?”

Clint knows he’s not expected to respond and they spend the rest of the drive in silence. 

Coulson eventually pulls up to a large, picturesque house in the suburbs. The front yard is well-kept and covered in a light layer of snow. The house looks like it belongs in a fifties television show and, although he knows nothing about the area or real estate, Clint can tell that the Coulsons are definitely not hurting for money. 

Clint doesn’t know what he should have expected from Coulson’s family, but it’s definitely not for a small, Asian girl to come bursting out of the house as soon as they emerge from the car. She runs at Coulson and jumps happily into his waiting arms. Coulson laughs and spins her in a circle while Clint manages to grab their bags out of the trunk with only a small grunt of pain.

Coulson has put the girl back on her feet and slung an arm around her shoulders by the time Clint walks back to the side of the car. She smiles at Clint as Coulson makes introductions. 

“Clint, this is my sister, Elizabeth. Lizzie, this is Clint Barton.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Clint says with a nod since his hands are full.

“Nice to meet you too,” Lizzie replies with a grin. “We should get in out of the cold before Mama starts to worry about hypothermia.”

They walk through the front door to find the rest of the Coulsons in the entryway. Clint is introduced to Coulson’s father, David, and his mother, Jenny, who pulls Clint into a hug and completely ignores how the archer stiffens in her arms. They then turn to a younger, blonde boy.

“And this is Nathan,” Jenny says, wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders with an affectionate squeeze. “He prefers to be called Nate.”

Clint is the only one who catches the slight tightening of Nate’s eyes at the introduction, recognition sharpening his gaze. Jenny hadn’t used the words brother or son or anything else related to family and it doesn’t take much to put the pieces together - Nate is a foster kid. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Nate,” Clint greets the boy, making a point to look him in the eye.

“Yeah, whatever,” is Nate’s sullen response before he shrugs out of Jenny’s grip and walks deeper into the house. 

Jenny looks after him with a sad frown, clearly unfamiliar with how to deal with a slightly rebellious pre-teen. It gives Clint a good idea of what Phil must have been like as a kid.

“He probably just wants to finish playing Halo,” Lizzie says quickly, following Nate into the house and that gives Clint a good indication of what the Coulsons are like as parents.

“Give him time,” David says to his wife reassuringly before turning to Coulson and Clint. “Phil, why don’t you put your things upstairs?”

Clint follows Coulson upstairs and hands him his bag when they stop in the hallway between two rooms. 

“How long has Nate been fostered with your folks?” Clint asks after they’ve thrown their bags into their respective rooms and are headed back downstairs.

“About three months,” Coulson answers. “The most difficult thing was actually their settling on just one kid, but Dad insisted that it was better to focus on one at a time. I don’t think either of them was prepared for all the attitude.” 

“It’s hard when all the older siblings are perfect,” Clint says jokingly.

Coulson spins to face him at the bottom of the stairs. “I was far from perfect.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Coulson.” Clint pats him on the shoulder and moves past him into the living room, plopping down next to the kids and figuring he probably has more in common with them than the elder Coulsons.

Christmas Eve dinner turns out to be personal pizzas and everyone crowds around the kitchen counter to pile on their chosen toppings. He watches as Coulson and Lizzie rib Nate good naturedly about the amount of cheese he’s put on his pizza and Clint can’t help wondering how different his life would have turned out if any of his foster families had been anything like the Coulsons. He looks back down to refocus on his own pizza and misses Coulson looking up at him with a sad, fond smile.

Clint really isn’t surprised when Jenny volunteers him to help with the dishes after dinner. He braces himself for a string of probing questions, but Jenny only hums to herself as she hands the dishes to Clint to dry. She shuts off the water as Clint wipes at the last dish and wraps an arm around his back, making Clint bite his lip to keep from letting out a hiss of pain at her gentle squeeze.

“I’m very glad you’re here, Clint,” Jenny says. “It’s always nice to meet one of Philly’s friends.”

“Philly?” Clint asks with a raised eyebrow.

Jenny grins and pats Clint’s hand. “It wouldn’t be a family visit if you didn’t at least get some blackmail material. If you get up early enough tomorrow, I’ll show you the Halloween pictures. You would not believe how adorable little Philly was in his Captain America costume.”

There is no way for Clint to hold back his laughter at the image that conjures up. Coulson pokes his head back into the kitchen and narrows his eyes at his mother accusingly. Clint has seen seasoned SHIELD agents spill their entire life’s history after being on the receiving end of that look from Coulson, but Jenny only blinks back with utter innocence. Clint laughs again.

~*~*~*~*~

Clint wakes up the next morning to find Nate sitting by himself at the top of the stairs. He can hear Jenny, David, and Lizzie’s laughter from downstairs and debates for only a second before sitting on the step next to him. Nate startles, not having heard Clint’s approach.

“Can I give you some advice from one foster kid to another?” Clint asks before Nate can bolt.

Nate’s eyes go impossibly wide and Clint sends up a silent wish that this kid’s life take a much smoother path than his own. “You were in the system?”

“Yeah,” Clint answers. “How many homes have you been in?”

“This is my third.” Nate curls into himself a little and Clint doesn’t have to ask to know that the other homes were not good ones. Clint’s hands clench into fists, but he forces his voice to remain level.

“So you know that you can do much worse than the Coulsons,” Clint reminds him.

Nate nods and looks wistfully down the stairs. “I know...it’s just...”

“Hard not to keep thinking it will all get taken away again?” Clint finishes for him. Nate nods again and Clint risks putting a hand on the kid’s shoulder, a little surprised when Nate leans into the archer’s touch. “Look...I know it’s hard to imagine, but sometimes, it is possible for luck to tip your way. The Coulsons are good people. I can’t promise you that they’ll keep you, but I also don’t think they’ll send you away without good reason and without making sure you’ll be okay. It’s good to be wary - that’s not a bad trait to hold onto. Just don’t let it stop you from enjoying what happiness comes your way.”

“I really like them,” Nate whispers.

“I do too,” Clint confesses. “I think you can trust them, but don’t go with what I say, what does your gut tell you?”

“I...I think they really do care about me,” Nate says with the start of a smile. 

“Then go with that,” Clint suggests. “I bet they have a pile of presents waiting for you down there.”

“Yeah!” Nate agrees with a grin and starts to walk down the stairs before turning to look back at Clint. “Do you think we could...um...talk more later? I mean...Lizzie tries, but she’s been here since she was a baby, so it’s not really the same.”

“Sure, kid,” Clint nods. “I think we’re leaving late tonight, but I can give you my cell number if the Coulsons say it’s okay.”

Nate beams up at him before taking the stairs two at a time, thoughts already on the tree and the presents underneath. Clint waits a beat before speaking. 

“I know you’re lurking. I can smell your aftershave.”

“If you meant for the conversation to be private, you shouldn’t have it on the only stairs in the house,” Phil fires back before squeezing himself next to Clint. “Didn’t realize you went into the system.”

“A few homes before and after the orphanage,” Clint explains. “Barney took me out of the last one before we found the circus.” Clint doesn’t add that Barney had also torched the family’s car in retaliation for the black eye and cast Clint had been sporting at the time. He stands up, determined not to dwell on bad memories, and looks down at Coulson who’s giving him a disappointed frown. “Just not today, okay?” 

Coulson sighs, but doesn’t press Clint further. “I smell coffee,” Coulson comments as he stands, waving down the stairs. “After you.”

Christmas Day at the Coulson’s is just as joyful and boisterous as Clint had expected. He lets himself bask in the feeling of family and acceptance that surrounds him, happy that Nate seems to be doing the same. 

He’s half forgotten about his injured ribs in the chaos of the day, but they make themselves known when Clint carelessly tries to lift his duffel with the wrong arm. He drops the bag with a grunt, doubling over a little in pain.

“God damn it, Clint!” Coulson says angrily from the doorway, walking up to Clint and yanking up his sweater without asking for permission. Clint’s side is now a mottled black, blue, and yellow. “Sanders said you weren’t hurt. What were you thinking? These could be broken.”

“Nah,” Clint responds, trying not to shiver as Coulson gently probes Clint’s side with his fingertips. “Doesn’t hurt when I breathe.”

Coulson gives him a particularly vicious poke and Clint jumps back with a yelp. “What the fuck, Coulson?”

“You’re lucky I haven’t punched you for being stupid,” Coulson retorts. “When are you going to learn that you are worth more to me and to SHIELD than just your aim?”

Clint turns away from Coulson’s glare. “It’s not that. It’s just...I don’t...I hate Medical.”

“You mean you don’t trust Medical,” Coulson corrects and continues when Clint only shrugs. “You trust me though, right?”

Clint looks over and is surprised when he sees the doubt in his handler’s expression. “What? Yeah, of course I do. You know I trust you.”

“Then can you trust me to look out for you? Trust that I’ll only send you down to Medical if it’s absolutely necessary?” Coulson asks. “You’re not in this alone anymore, Clint.”

Clint sucks in a breath when he realizes the true meaning behind Coulson’s words. He’s telling Clint that he _cares_ \- more than just as his handler, but as his friend. Possibly more than just friends too, but Clint really isn’t ready to handle more than one epiphany at a time.

“Yeah,” Clint says. “Yeah, okay, Phil.”


	2. Acceptance

Five months later, Clint defies direct orders and breaks back into a Hydra base to pull Phil out of enemy hands. Phil is a heavy, unmoving weight across his shoulders as Clint jogs toward the waiting SHIELD helicopter, leaving the base a smoldering ruin behind them. It’s Clint’s turn to grip Phil’s hand and whisper soothing words as the psychotropic drugs wreak havoc with his system. 

As soon as Phil is calm and sleeping quietly in Medical, Clint finds Wilkins, the agent who had tried to leave Coulson behind, and breaks his jaw with a single punch before going back to his quarters and sleeping for the next 24 hours. Clint wakes up, more than a little surprised to still be in his room and not in the brig, and figures that maybe the rumors of Fury considering Phil is his one good eye may not be so far-fetched after all. He showers and strolls down to the mess, less surprised when the entire room breaks out into slow applause - Wilkins was kind of an ass to everyone. 

Clint is happy to find another note taped to his door when he gets back and he snags it before heading back down to Phil’s office. 

“Shouldn’t you be down in Medical, sir?” Clint asks upon entering. 

Phil doesn’t bother looking up from the paperwork in front of him. “That’s rich, coming from you, Hawkeye. Here sign this.”

Clint steps forward to take the form that Phil is holding out. “What’s this?”

“Vacation request,” Phil responds, signing the form in front of him before finally looking up at Clint. “My folks and the kids are heading over to Lake George and are expecting us.”

“Sir?”

“Fury has already pre-approved the request,” Phil continues. “We leave in the morning unless you’d like to call my mother and explain why we can’t make it?”

Clint grabs a pen off Phil’s desk and signs the form. “Yeah, no.” He hands the paper back and Phil puts it on top of his own form. “I have to ask how this is going to look. I disobeyed a direct order and assaulted a superior. Instead of being brought up on charges, I get a vacation?”

Phil sighs and leans back in his chair. “Wilkins is an ass and deserves everything he got, including the demotion Fury is handing him right now. We may not be the military, but we don’t leave our people behind. Does that look about right to you?”

“Yes, sir,” Clint says, fighting a smile. 

“Go pack. They want to meet up in Albany for brunch, so we need to get out of here early,” Phil orders, already turning back to the work piled up on his desk. 

Clint moves to leave, but Phil’s voice stops him at the door. “And Clint? Thank you.” 

“Anytime, sir,” Clint replies, meeting Phil’s eyes steadily. “You’re not alone anymore either.”

~*~*~*~*~

The days spent at Lake George with the Coulsons are happier than any of Clint’s recent memories. He spends the week relaxing in the lake, learning more about what Phil is like outside of work, debating classic literature with David, and helping Jenny with the cooking. Lizzie peppers Clint with questions about all the places he has visited in the world and Clint surprises everyone when he sketches several buildings from memory.

“These are beautiful, Clint,” Jenny gushes. “You should have been an artist or an architect.”

Clint blushes and shakes his head, explaining to Lizzie and Nate how the green marble on this particular cathedral doesn’t exist anywhere else in the world. He can see Phil out of the corner of his eye walk up and flip reverently through his earlier sketches. While Phil has seen Clint draw the floorplan of an entire base from a single walk through, this is the first time the archer has dared to share the true extent of his hidden talent. Clint doesn’t say anything when he catches Phil placing the sketches in his briefcase later that afternoon, but the gentle way Phil handles the paper and the soft smile on his face is enough to send Clint’s heart racing. 

He’s still unsure what to do about his burgeoning feelings for Phil when, on their last day at the lake, Clint wakes to a tentative knock at his door. 

“Come in, Nate,” he calls and sits up, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Clint pats the foot of bed and waits for Nate to climb up. “What’s up?”

They’ve talked a few times on the phone since Christmas, Nate often needing an ear that understood where he was coming from. 

“They want to adopt me,” Nate says softly. Clint waits for more, but the boy just continues to look down at his hands.

Clint reaches over and pokes him in the shoulder. “You know that’s supposed to be a good thing, right?”

“Yeah, but...” Nate bites his lip as he struggles to find the right words. “I think that’s the problem?”

“Ah,” Clint says and leans back against the wall. “Can I ask you something about your first family?”

“Sure, I guess,” Nate shrugs. They’ve never talked about Nate’s parents. All Clint knows is that they died in a plane crash.

“Did your parents love you?” Clint knows it’s not the most gentle way to approach the conversation, but there’s really no better way to ask but to be direct.

“Yeah, of course they did,” Nate responds and Clint wishes he could be that innocent in assuming that all parents loved their children. “We didn’t have much. Dad worked two different jobs, but they tried to give me what they could.”

“Okay. So if you could talk to them now, what do you think they would say about the Coulsons adopting you?” Clint asks. 

“I think they’d like that they take care of me. That...that they love me.” Clint waits as Nate digests his own words, a huge grin eventually taking over the young boy’s face. “They want to adopt me!”

Nate launches himself at Clint and the archer returns the hug with a laugh. “You should probably go find your new parents,” Clint suggests.

Nate runs out of the room and Clint closes his eyes, listening as the house fills with love and laughter. When he opens his eyes, Phil is at the door and looking at Clint in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat. 

“Come on,” Phil says with a tilt of his head. “I think Ma wants to hug you or feed you or both.”

Clint follows Phil downstairs and tries to remind himself that, sometimes, luck can tip in his favor.

~*~*~*~*~

A week later, Clint is wishing that he’d been a little braver a little sooner.

He looks over the barrel of the gun and into the Black Widow’s cold eyes and hopes his instincts are correct. If not, Clint hopes that the sketches he’s left in his room for Phil - the house in Hartford, Lake George, and their favorite pizzeria in Venice - tell enough of how he feels.

“You won’t kill me,” Clint says calmly.

“I have killed many more than you,” Widow responds.

“But not me and not today,” Clint counters. “Same as I couldn’t kill you.”

“You’re a fool,” Widow spits out.

“Maybe,” Clint shrugs. “It’s not the first time someone’s told me that. But I also see really well from a distance and I saw you. Not the Black Widow, but you.”

The Widow’s eyes narrow just a fraction, but it’s enough to tell Clint that he’s making progress. “I saw...I _see_ someone who wants a way out, a way to make amends for red in their ledger.”

“You see nothing,” Widow fires back, but there is less bite to her words than before.

“I would says it’s like looking in a mirror,” Clint continues, “but I haven’t been that man in a long time. I can offer you something nobody else will.”

“SHIELD’s protection?” Widow scoffs.

“Beyond that,” Clint responds. “I can give you Coulson’s.”

Widow’s brow furrows in confusion. “What’s Coulson?”

“ _Who_ is Coulson,” Clint corrects. “He’s the man who saw me, the man I trust with my life, and the man I can trust to give you new meaning to yours.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Widow asks and Clint knows he’s won.

“You don’t. Trust is something you earn,” Clint says and nods toward his bow, quiver, and sidearm sitting on the floor between them. 

“What is he to you? This Coulson?” she asks and Clint sees it for the test of trust that it is. 

“He’s my everything,” Clint responds honestly and hears the sharp intake of breath on the otherwise silent comm.

“You’re still a fool,” Widow tells him and lowers her gun.

Clint grins and yanks her behind him as the SHIELD team storms into the room. “Yeah, I know.”

~*~*~*~*~

A day and many, many hours of debriefs and interrogations later, Clint finds himself alone in Phil’s office. The closing of the door startles Clint from his light doze on the couch and he just barely catches the card that Phil throws at his head.

“What’s this?” Clint asks.

“Your new ID card,” Phil replies, standing menacingly over Clint. “Do you have any idea what kind of mess you’ve made? The Widow has several government agencies after her, not to mention half the criminal underworld.”

“You’ll figure it out, protect her,” Clint responds immediately. “I know you can.”

Phil deflates a little and Clint finally sees the fatigue hidden under the Agent Coulson facade. “How can you have that much confidence in me?”

“Because I know you,” Clint answers easily. “Am I being demoted?”

“What? No,” Phil says like it was never a possibility. “Promoted, actually. You’re now level seven and report directly to Fury. And before you even think it, no, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“So why...” Clint trails off as Phil leans forward and braces his hands on the back of the couch, just over Clint’s shoulders. 

“The director and I thought it would be inappropriate for us to start a romantic relationship while I was still your immediate supervisor,” Phil says seriously and Clint allows himself to smirk.

“Romantic relationship?” he can’t help goading.

“Clint,” Phil replies with a touch of frustration. “You do realize that was an open comm? That everyone on the op and in HQ heard what you said?”

Clint nods. “Would you have prefered I waited until the next time one of us is in Medical to declare my undying devotion? Or when we’re hit with an aphrodisiac bomb? Or we meet one of us from an alternate reality? Oh, I know! After a body swap would be a totally appropriate time to make that kind of announcement.”

“Clint...”

“I meant every word, Phil,” Clint says, realizing that Phil needs reassurance and not snark. “Don’t you think it’s time we stop pretending we don’t know how we really feel?”

Phil starts to speak and then stops, gives a small shake of his head, and finally closes the distance between them. The first touch of Phil’s lips against his sends a flood of warmth through Clint that settles comfortingly around his heart. It revives a part of Clint he’s long kept dormant and he pulls Phil closer, deepening the kiss. He twists on the couch, unbalancing Phil, and he lands on top of Clint with a grunt and then a groan as their bodies line up perfectly. Phil melts into Clint, their lips meeting again and again, their kisses getting more frantic until Phil pulls away with a concerted effort. 

"Not here," Phil gasps and then groans again when Clint reaches up to kiss along his neck. 

"Why not?" Clint asks with a pout as Phil pulls further away. 

The intensity of Phil's gaze leaves Clint breathless as the older man runs a gentle finger along his jaw. "Because you deserve more than something fast and frantic in my office. Because I want to take my time learning every inch of your gorgeous body, to make you fly apart at my touch. Because once I know what it's like to have you, I won't ever want to stop."

Despite his heat-filled words, the kiss Phil gives him is gentle, almost chaste. Clint kisses him back and follows him home.


	3. Ascent

As the world and their work with SHIELD spirals quickly towards the crazy, Clint and Phil’s home life becomes amazingly domestic. Clint’s few possessions slowly meander over to Phil’s apartment until Phil finally just hands Clint the change of address form to sign one morning. By then, there is nothing left to pack except Clint’s third favorite quiver. 

Phil talks to Jenny and David every few weeks, which almost always leads to Clint being involved in at least part of the conversation. It still doesn’t prepare him from an early morning phone call when Phil isn’t home to answer.

“H’lo?” Clint says groggily into the phone. 

Clint had gotten home from another WSC fact finding mission very early that morning and had taken advantage of Phil being off on Stark-wrangling duty to crash, fully clothed, on their bed. He’ll have to wash the blood and dirt off the duvet later, but it’s worth what little sleep he’d managed before the phone woke him.

“Hello Clint, is Phil around?”

“Wha? Huh? Ma?” Clint mumbles, trying to sit up and only managing to nearly fall off the bed and drop the phone on the floor. He then proceeds to finishes his fall down to the floor in his scramble to grab for the phone. 

“Clint, dear, are you okay?” Jenny asks with obvious concern as Clint brings the phone back to his ear.

“Sorry, I um...uh, got in late from an assignment,” Clint answers, leaning back against the bed and fighting a yawn.

“I assume Phillip isn’t home.” she says and Clint is glad, for Phil’s sake, that he is clear across the country. Jenny is obviously unhappy with even the slight possibility that Phil would leave Clint alone in this state.

“Phil’s in California. Did you need to get a hold of him?” Clint asks, immediately concerned. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, dear,” Jenny responds quickly. “I was just wondering if you two were going to make it home for Christmas this year.”

It takes Clint an absurd amount of time to think through the question. “Phil should be back in plenty of time, barring any unforeseen emergencies. We should be able to make it up.”

“That’s good to hear,” Jenny says warmly. “Now go take a shower and get back into bed.”

“Yes, Ma,” Clint replies automatically before hanging up and stumbling towards the bathroom.

There are several pieces of that conversation that Clint will need to think through much later - that he’d called Jenny “Ma”, that she’d included Clint when she’d called Hartford home, and that Jenny had known Clint hadn’t cleaned up before falling into bed. But the first thing that occurs to Clint when he finally wakes up, is that he doesn’t know whether Jenny is aware of their change in living arrangement or the shift in their relationship.

Clint thinks it is a perfectly reasonable concern and that there is no need for Phil to laugh nearly so hard when Clint mentions it after he gets home later that week. 

“Oh Clint!” Phil says breathlessly as he wipes tears from his eyes. “My mother knew about us before _we_ knew about us.”

Phil straightens and takes a few more deep breaths before walking over to a disgruntled Clint and placing his hands on the archer’s shoulders. 

“I’m sorry for laughing,” Phil apologizes even though he’s still trying to contain his grin. “You have no idea how much advice I’ve gotten since Christmas. My family loves you and Ma still likes to drop comments about how I’m an idiot for waiting so long.”

“Really?” Clint asks in disbelief.

“Yes, really,” Phil replies. “And I am sorry for laughing, but thank you. I needed that after the week I’ve had.”

Phil does look beat and it makes Clint feel a smidge guilty for the banner now hanging over his desk proclaiming, “I am Phil Coulson!” in large, red and gold letters. Clint isn’t there to witness Phil’s reaction in person, but the picture Natasha sneaks and sends to Clint almost makes him drop his bow as he struggles with his laughter. 

The banner is, as expected, long gone by the time Clint brings Phil lunch as a peace offering. They both purposely avoid the subject of Iron Man or Tony Stark for the next week, but Clint can’t hold back his snort of laughter when Nate answers the door on Christmas Eve wearing an Iron Man t-shirt. He has to hold back another snort as Phil heaves a huge sigh before letting himself be hugged by the rest of the family. Clint returns his own round of hugs warmly and absolutely does not blush when David pointedly tell them that they are _both_ bunking in Phil’s old room.

Clint follows Phil up the stairs, curious because he hadn’t seen the room Phil had stayed in the year before. He isn’t sure if he should expect a shrine to Captain America and stops in shocked wonder just inside the doorway. Up on the wall above the headboard are not vintage Captain America posters, but Clint’s sketches from the lake, now beautifully matted and framed.

“Ma knew I’d kept them,” Phil says when Clint continues to stare at the frames in silence. “It was the only thing she wanted for Christmas and I thought it would be nicer to send them in advance. Is this okay?”

“It’s...of course, it’s...this is...Phil...” 

Phil pulls Clint into his arms. “I love you and they love you, Clint. Do you believe me now?”

It takes a few more minutes before Clint is calm enough to nod and take a step out of Phil’s gentle hold. Clint smiles at him, still a bit overwhelmed, and they make their way back downstairs to join the rest of the family. Ma doesn’t say anything when Clint sits next to her on the couch, only pausing in her conversation with David to wrap her arm around Clint and let him lean his head against her shoulder.

~*~*~*~*~

As if life were trying to make up for past wrongs, Clint finds himself gaining not just a family and a man who loves him unconditionally, but a best friend who understands and compliments him in a way he never would have imagined possible.

It doesn’t take long for Natasha, the Black Widow, to rise through the SHIELD ranks. With her experience and training, she is a formidable woman. With Clint at her side and Phil in her ear, they are unstoppable. There are, of course, rumors of a sexual relationship between Clint and Natasha, and even more rumors of one between Clint and Phil and Natasha, but Clint can see that she needs a friend and not a lover. Whomever holds Natasha’s heart has it for life and Clint, even if he didn’t already have a love of his own, would never disrespect her choice. 

The bond Clint has with Natasha is similar, but wholly separate from the one he has with Phil. While Phil accepts Clint despite his past, Natasha understands it in a way that Phil cannot - living through the darkness will always be different than dealing with its results. It would be simplest to say Natasha is like a sibling, but Clint refuses to taint their friendship with memories of Barney and his betrayal. 

Clint isn’t always sure if the corresponding friendship between Natasha and Phil is beneficial to him or not. They have an unfortunate tendency to gang up on Clint whenever they feel it’s for his own good.

“So...” Phil starts one night as they’re making dinner. “Natasha told me about the archery competition.”

“Natasha needs to learn that reading other people’s mail is rude and an invasion of privacy,” Clint replies. 

“Ten of the most recent Olympic medal winners all in one place at one time,” Phil continues like Clint hadn’t spoken. “It’s never happened before and will likely not happen again.”

“What did you do? Memorize the flyer?” Clint asks, leaving the chili to simmer and walking out of the kitchen before Phil can reply. He’s not surprised when Phil abandons the corn bread to follow Clint into the living room.

“Give me one reason why you shouldn’t go and show them what a real archer looks like,” Phil requests as Clint flops down on the couch.

Clint leans his head on the back of the couch, looking up at the ceiling instead of Phil. “You only want one?”

“Clint,” Phil says and sits on the coffee table, laying a hand on Clint’s knee patiently. “If you’re worried about the notoriety, you know we can get around that. The flyer was already sent to one of you less-known aliases and any pictures or posts will be easy to fix. It’s not anything we haven’t done before.”

“That’s not it,” Clint sighs.

“Do you want the notoriety?” Phil asks and the question has Clint finally lifting his head in shock.

“What? No!” he exclaims. “I don’t care what a bunch of strangers think about me. If I did it, it wouldn’t be to make a name for myself.”

“Then why...” Phil trails off and the hand on Clint’s knee tightens. “The competition is during the Expo. Natasha and I are already slotted for Stark duty during the Expo.”

Clint ducks his head so he doesn’t have to look at Phil’s earnest, slightly guilty expression. He’s never known what to do with Phil’s confidence in his abilities. There are more of Clint’s sketches framed and hung around the apartment, but that isn’t something he’s willing to share with anyone outside of family. Archery, however, is a skill he’s confident in and the upcoming competition had seemed like a way to make Phil proud - it’s the only reason Clint hadn’t automatically chucked the flyer when it had arrived in the mail.

“It’s really not a big deal,” Clint shrugs. 

Phil moves to sit next to Clint on the couch and bumps their shoulders together. “Can I be honest about something?” he asks and Clint gives him a look that hopefully conveys just how silly that question is. “Right, sorry. What I was going to say is that I already know you’ll outperform everyone at the competition. Don’t take this as blanket permission to try crazy stunts in the field, but I much prefer watching you show off on the training gauntlet over shooting arrows at unmoving targets.”

“Yeah?” Clint asks with a grin.

“You’re going to completely ignore the first part of that sentence, aren’t you?” Phil concludes and Clint lets his grin widen in response before leaning into Phil until they’re both laying along the length of the couch.

“The chili has to simmer for at least an hour,” Clint reminds him. “Why don’t we see what else I’m good at showing off?”

~*~*~*~*~

Clint forgets all about the competition until a few days later. Phil catches him smiling down at his phone, so Clint shows him the picture that Lizzie sent of Nate standing next to a target and holding up the bow Clint sent him for his birthday.

“Looks like Nate made the archery team,” Clint says proudly.

“Of course he did,” Phil responds, “You were amazingly patient with him.”

"Nah," Clint counters, "He's a natural and….oh."

"Oh, what?" Phil prods when Clint doesn't continue.

"The archery competition is over a weekend, so Nate wouldn't have to miss school," Clint points out, embarrassed that he hadn't thought of it earlier. "Do you think your dad would drive him down?"

"That's a great idea, Clint!" Phil agrees. "I'm sure dad would love to take him. And it would be easy to explain the fake name as part of Nate's surprise. If Nate didn’t already idolize you, this would definitely do it."

Clint blushes at Phil's words, still a little uncomfortable with how much Nate looks up to him. He'd tried to tell Jenny and David that he is not the best role model for the teenager, but they'd only scoffed at his protests and continued to encourage Nate to spend time with Clint. He can’t make himself push Nate away, but does his best to steer the kid in the direction Clint wishes he’d gone - archery as a hobby and not a life is one of many examples.

As Phil predicted, David loves the idea of attending the archery competition with Nate, happily working with Clint to plan the surprise. The event is in Springfield and having the boys away for the weekend will give the girls an opportunity to shop and pamper themselves for Lizzie’s prom the following weekend. Nate's texts get increasingly more excited as the date of the competition nears and not even the WSC pulling them back from the arctic or Phil leaving to deal with Stark can dampen Clint's spirits. 

When the call from Fury inevitably comes the morning of the competition, Clint wonders of he's become too accustomed to things going right that he’s actually surprised when things don’t go according to plan. 

Fury doesn't have to tell him that he's going to New Mexico, not because of an alien, but because Phil is there. No matter how many years have passed since Clint got promoted to level seven, Hawkeye will always be Coulson's asset. There is no debate - Clint packs his gear, gets on a plane, and makes a phone call of his own. 

David is understanding when Clint calls and they both agree that keeping Clint's attendance a surprise was a good idea, even if it’s now for the wrong reason. It helps to know that he isn’t letting Nate down, but it does little to relieve Clint’s own disappointment. 

Finding the aftermath of Phil's heroics at the gas station does help enough to make Clint smile, so he doesn’t automatically chafe at his somewhat cold reception upon reaching the makeshift command center. Clint understands that Phil’s anger isn’t directed at him, but is on his behalf. He ignores it and they do their jobs. They’ve been together long enough that Clint is confident Phil will talk about it when he’s ready.

It turns out that Phil isn’t ready until they’re back in the comfort of their own bed. Phil settles against Clint’s back and slides his arms around him with a sigh.

“There was no need for Fury to send you to New Mexico after me,” Phil says softly.

Clint only hums noncommittally because, after everything that had happened, he doesn’t think there was anywhere else he should have been except watching Phil’s back.

“But...” Phil continues, “I’m glad you were there.”

There’s something off in Phil’s voice and Clint turns to face him, wrapping his own arms around the older man. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just...things are changing, Clint. The whole world seems to be spiraling into chaos and I can’t help but be concerned that we’ll get caught up in the middle of it,” Phil confesses and it takes Clint a moment for it to sink in - Phil is scared. 

Clint is unsure what to do at first, unaccustomed to being the one offering reassurance, but decides to go with what feels right. He reaches out to slide his hand along Phil arm, guiding it until their fingers are twined together. He then brings their joined hands up and shifts until they’re pressed together with their hands between their hearts.

“No matter what happens,” Clint says confidently, “this won’t change. We won’t change. Nothing else matters.”

Phil’s answering smile is near-blinding and Clint reaches up to seal his promise with a searing kiss.


	4. Reaching New Heights

Nate gushes about the archery competition when Phil and Clint drive up for Lizzie’s graduation a month later. He provides an exuberant play-by-play of the finals while David looks amazed at his ability to remember all the details.

“It was amazing, Clint!” Nate exclaims. “You should have been there. I know you could have beat them all with your eyes closed!”

“I doubt that, Nate,” Clint laughs, happy at the teenager’s confidence in him.

“I agree with Nate,” Phil says. “Did Clint ever tell you about how he used to shoot at targets while blindfolded _and_ standing on a galloping horse?”

“I only did that once!” Clint protests.

“Really? Awesome!” Nate cries. “How many targets did you hit?”

Clint laughs again and starts to tell Nate about some of his more spectacular stunts from the circus, trying not to notice a group of Lizzie’s friends that are staring with rapt attention. 

“My friends think you’re hot,” Lizzie says matter-of-fact when she catches him hiding out on the back porch later that afternoon. 

“Wa - what?” Clint stutters and tries not to choke on his beer.

“I haven’t decided if they’re just crazily hopeful or choosing to ignore the fact that you’re in a long-term relationship with my _brother_.” Lizzie huffs and does an exaggerated eye roll that makes Clint grin. “Sorry if they’re making you uncomfortable.”

Clint shrugs. The staring had made him uncomfortable, but Lizzie doesn’t need to be worrying about him. “Nah. I’m generally not great around a lot of people. Ask your brother. Just needed a breath of fresh air.”

“So you’re not out here hiding?” Lizzie asks and Clint remembers that she is Phil Coulson’s sister. The perceptiveness isn’t so much genetic as it is ingrained through years of living with Jenny Coulson.

“Maybe a little,” Clint admits, smiling again when Lizzie leans closer and puts her head on his shoulder. 

“Mind if I hide out with you for a bit?” Her voice sounds tired, so Clint leans back against the porch swing and wraps his arm around her shoulders, providing what support he can.

“Oh, hey,” Clint says after a moment of comfortable silence. “I’ve been meaning to give you this.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, black box that Lizzie opens eagerly. Inside is a small, circular pendant engraved with a tiny figure on a blade of grass.

“A cricket?” Lizzie says as she runs a finger over the engraving. 

“For luck,” Clint responds. “I know you’ll do amazing at Harvard, but everyone can use a bit of luck every now and then.”

Clint doesn’t add that he knows Lizzie has been struggling between her loyalty to her family and wanting to learn more about her heritage. In a small way, he hopes the necklace will help her see that one does not necessarily betray the other.

“Thank you. I love it.” Lizzie pulls the necklace out of the box and straightens to let Clint help with the clasp. She reaches up to give him a kiss on the cheek before re-settling against his side.

“Lizzie? There you are. Your mother wants you,” David interrupts a few minutes later. 

Lizzie gives Clint a hug and stands, giving her dad a quick hug as well when she walks by him and into the house. 

“My little girl is growing up,” David says with a sigh, handing Clint a fresh beer, and leaning against the railing in front of the swing. “I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with her moving to Boston on her own.”

“Phil bought her a taser and we’re not opposed to doing background checks on the staff and the entire student population,” Clint relays, making David laugh. “You think I’m kidding?”

“Oh no,” David responds with a chuckle. “Knowing you boys, I’m surprised you haven’t already replaced the entire staff with undercover agents.”

“I wouldn’t give Phil any ideas,” Clint warns and grins when David continues to laugh. Phil’s probably already looked into it.

~*~*~*~*~

The next year passes quietly. They help move Lizzie into Harvard and spend a peaceful Christmas in Hartford - happy to be together again as a whole family. 

Despite his words of reassurance, Phil’s dire prediction settles like a dark cloud in the back of Clint’s mind. Anticipation tingles just beneath his skin and he feels tension tightening in his gut as the months pass. By the time spring rolls around again, Clint is almost wishing for something to happen so that he can stop driving himself insane with paranoia. 

Phil has been grounded at NY HQ overseeing new weapons development, which would be great if Clint were home to enjoy it. Instead, Fury has Hawkeye either on the Helicarrier making adjustments to security measures or traipsing around the world doing recon. 

Clint waves off the airman offering him the pilot’s seat on his latest flight home from India, opting to work on his field report and updating the file on Banner even if he suspects that Hawkeye will be the one sent to bring the scientist in when the time comes. With luck, getting his work done now will give him extra time with Phil when he touches down.

He has to clench his jaw to keep from cursing a blue streak when Clint sees Fury waiting for him on the tarmac. The director gives him just enough time to head to the apartment and grab a new set of clothes before he’s needed back at HQ for a flight out to New Mexico. He is really starting to hate New Mexico.

“Clint? Are you home?” Phil calls out just as Clint is zipping up his go bag. 

“In the bedroom!” Clint responds and stands, striding across to the door and pulling Phil into a kiss as soon as he comes into view.

“Mmm,” Phil hums happily as the kiss ends before he gets a good look at Clint and frowns. “You look tired.”

“That’s because I am tired,” Clint says, giving Phil another quick peck on the lips before detangling himself and walking back to grab his bag. 

“You’re headed back out?” Phil asks unnecessarily.

“Yeah. Fury is sending me to Pegasus.” Clint pauses when he sees Phil’s frown deepen. “Fury didn’t tell you? He mentioned you were headed back to the arctic. Excited about finally seeing your boy?”

Phil reaches out cup Clint’s jaw. “ _You’re_ my boy,” he insists and Clint honestly can’t be blamed for pushing Phil against the wall and kissing him deeply. Fury can wait a few minutes.

“I miss you,” Clint says when he reluctantly pulls away from Phil, still not able to step away completely.

“I miss you, too,” Phil replies. “Be safe.”

“I’m just going to babysit a bunch of scientists,” Clint shrugs.

Phil shakes his head. “Haven’t you figured out by now that Fury is sending you to where he needs someone he trusts? He relies on you Clint - not just for what you see, but how you see it.”

Clint shrugs again as his phone buzzes against his hip. “I gotta run. Go thaw out your hero. Hopefully he’s worth all the trouble we’ve gone through.”

This time, it’s Phil who snakes a hand out to keep Clint from leaving. He grabs Clint by the back of his neck and pulls him in for one last, fierce kiss. “Be safe,” he repeats.

Clint flashes him the cockiest grin he can muster before trotting out of the apartment.

~*~*~*~*~

Considering Phil’s reaction to his being assigned to Pegasus, Clint should not have been surprised when Phil shows up at the base a little over a week later.

“What are you doing here?” Clint asks when they’re safely ensconced in his quarters that night. He leans forward for a kiss without letting Phil answer, fingers deftly unbuttoning Phil’s shirt as he lets his jacket drop to the floor.

Phil pulls away and yanks Clint’s shirt up and off, lips immediately locking onto the taut muscles of the archer’s neck. “Sex now,” Phil growls, “talk later.”

Clint really can’t argue with that logic and walks backwards toward the bed, tumbling onto it and dragging Phil with him.

~*~*~*~

“So?” Clint asks much later as he lays across Phil’s chest. The single bed is much too small for two grown men, but it’s far from the worst conditions they’ve ever slept in. “Is Steve Rogers all that you imagined him to be?”

“I wouldn’t know. He was still asleep when I left,” Phil responds and Clint looks up at him, startled. 

“Wait. You left him asleep to come here?”

“Clint,” Phil says like he’s explaining something the archer should already know. “I haven’t seen you for more than a few minutes in _months_ and, unlike your other assignments, Fury actually plans to keep you here for more than a day or two.”

“You’ve always said it’s part of the job,” Clint reminds him.

“It is,” Phil agrees. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it or figure out a way around it. I’m head of weapons development. I can probably do that better here than HQ and definitely better than if I were in the arctic. Fury thought he was doing me a favor, but he wasn’t.”

“I know you were excited about meeting him in person. You could have stayed until they woke him up,” Clint points out.

“I’m really not as big a fan as you believe me to be,” Phil sighs. 

Clint raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You have all of his trading cards. In near-mint condition.”

“Because my grandfather and I started collecting them as a kid. It doesn’t mean that I’m going to embarrass myself by fawning over the real thing.” 

“I still think you could pull it off and be endearing,” Clint says, smiling at the idea. “It may help him see us as more than just a shady government agency.”

“You really think that would work?” Phil asks.

“Telling Stark to ‘just follow the script’ worked, didn’t it?” They had all been a little amazed that the reverse psychology had worked to push Stark into becoming the hero they’d needed him to be. 

“A little too well,” Phil admits with a grimace.

“Like you said, the suit is only as good as the man wearing it,” Clint responds, “and, much as it makes us nervous, the best man is Tony Stark.”

Phil hums in agreement. “Fury’s worried about his adjustment and willingness to cooperate.”

“We back to talking about Rogers?” Clint clarifies and Phil nods. “I think Fury is underestimating him. This is the same guy who volunteered to become an experimental super soldier, who refused to just be a USO act, and defeated Red Skull at his own expense. Before that, he was the scrawny kid who kept trying to enlist no matter how many times he got denied. At some point, Fury is going to need to see that Howard Stark didn’t make Captain America, Captain America found him.”

“And you say I’m the fanboy?” Phil grins.

Clint shakes his head. “Seriously Phil, Fury needs to stop second-guessing himself on this. You and he handpicked the Avengers for a reason. They’ll come together when the time comes because it’s who they are - all of them are heros and good guys no matter how reluctant they are to admit it.” 

“And you?” Phil asks. This has always been a sticking point - Clint’s own reluctance to label himself a hero. 

“I’ll go because you asked,” Clint replies. “Same for Nat. In the end, who or why won’t matter. Because what’s coming is bigger than all of us.”

Phil’s brow furrows in concern. “Clint?” 

Clint winces and ducks his head, he hadn’t meant to worry Phil with his paranoia. “It’s nothing. Just chalk it up to silly carnie superstitions.”

“Clint,” Phil prods until he looks up again. “What do you see?”

It’s hard to explain - how the anticipation he’d been feeling for over a year seemed to thrum in recognition when Clint had first laid eyes on the bright blue cube. “The Tesseract. Don’t you think we’re being just a little arrogant about it?”

“What do you mean?” Phil questions with a frown.

“It’s a doorway we’re using to try and harness energy from space. Do we really think that nobody on the other side is thinking the same thing?”

They’re quiet after that, each lost in their own thoughts. What Clint is implying is almost too much to comprehend, but they both know better than to discount the impossible.

~*~*~*~

A few weeks later, the Tesseract starts to misbehave and Phil looks up at Hawkeye’s perch with fear in his eyes that only Clint can see. He doesn’t waste any time in calling Fury.

A few hours after that, the doorway opens and Loki steps through. The spear touches Clint’s heart and everything ceases to matter.


	5. Cushioning the Fall

For someone who has always relied on his vision, Clint is amazingly good at avoiding what he doesn’t want to see. He knows from the moment he wakes strapped to the infirmary bed that something is wrong - that Natasha is there where Phil should be. Clint tells himself that they’re being invaded, that there must be more pressing matters than his well-being, and ignores the fact that nothing but death itself would keep Phil from his side.

There is a small, childish part of Clint that wants to believe that, if he denies it long enough, the truth will never be real. It gets him through the battle and through shawarma, but reality is hard to deny when it’s delivered by Nick Fury.

“Phil’s gone and I’m sorry to ask you this, but I don’t have the luxury of losing another agent. I need you with me for a little longer, Hawkeye. Can you do that? For SHIELD?”

_For Phil_ , the director doesn’t say, but it still lays between them like a gauntlet. Natasha makes a disgusted noise behind him, but Clint doesn’t know what else to do but nod. He goes back to work because it’s nothing less than what Phil Coulson would do.

Clint gathers what’s left of SHIELD’s forces and disperses them between the Helicarrier and the streets of New York. He works alongside them to clear the mess of Chitauri bodies and wonders why none of them have branded him a traitor. Maybe they don’t have the luxury for blame either or maybe it’s because they know that Loki has already extracted the worst possible punishment from Clint. 

Already running on fumes from his time under Loki’s control, the only thing keeping Clint upright a day later is sheer force of will. But even the strongest of wills cannot account for the now uneven pavement and he stumbles, falling hard onto his hands and knees. Sitwell is by his side in an instant, offering a helping hand and a scowl.

“You can’t keep this up,” Sitwell admonishes as he helps Clint to his feet. “You’re on the verge of collapse.”

Sitwell, in addition to Natasha, has been Clint’s constant shadow. The cynical part of him wants to think that SHIELD prefers to keep an eye on him, but he knows deep down that their watchfulness is from concern, not distrust. 

“What? I’m not allowed to trip?” Clint asks, attempting some of his usual sarcasm. 

“I’ve seen you run across the top of a collapsing semi truck as it careened over a cliff without you once losing your balance,” Sitwell points out. “No, you’re allowed to fucking trip over a small crack in the sidewalk.”

“I appreciate your --”

“Agent Barton! Sir,” a junior agent interrupts. “We have an issue on Fifth.”

“Are the Chitauri waking up?” Sitwell asks before Clint can respond.

“Uh, no sir.”

“Then handle it yourself, Johnson,” Sitwell responds. “Agent Barton --”

“Wants to know what’s happening on Fifth,” Clint interjects. “Report, agent.”

“Uh...” starts Johnson, eyes flicking back and forth between the two senior agents. Sitwell crosses his arms and glares, but Clint knows his stare is a hell of a lot more intimidating than Jasper’s. “We...uh...there’s a woman on Fifth who claims that her sons are SHIELD agents. Says she saw them on the news and is demanding she and her husband be taken to HQ to find them.”

“Agent Johnson,” Clint says, fighting a sigh, “you do realize that she’s probably telling the truth and that most of the cell towers got taken out by the Chitauri flying doohickeys? The only reason our communications are up is because we’re using Stark tech.”

“Oh! Uh, right, sir,” Johnson stammers, but continues to stare at the two senior agents.

“Oh Christ, who the hell are we recruiting these days?” Sitwell asks and throws his hands up in the air in frustration.

Clint ignores Jaspers’s theatrics and patiently responds to the junior agent. “Have someone escort them to HQ. I have other agents assigned there to help locate family members.”

“You do? Oh...um...I mean, thank you sir. I’ll take them over myself.” 

Johnson runs off and Clint turns to Jasper, “You could stand to be a little more patient with them. This hasn’t exactly been a standard week.”

“And you need about three days of sleep,” Sitwell fires back before stepping closer and softening his voice. “Nobody is asking you to serve penance, Clint. I’m not going to watch you run yourself into the ground. I couldn’t call myself Phil’s friend or yours if I let that happen. Please. Get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” Clint assures him.

“No, you’re really not.” Sitwell retorts. “I wasn’t going to use this, but...Phil would hate seeing you like this.”

“That’s not fair,” Clint frowns. 

“Nobody’s playing fair anymore, Clint. Don’t make Romanoff and I drag you back to HQ.”

The two men stare at each other while Clint weighs his options. “Three hours. Give me three hours to finish up here and check in with the other Avengers. Then I promise to head back to HQ.”

“To sleep and eat,” Sitwell clarifies. “Not to work.”

“Yes, Jasper. To eat and sleep,” Clint agrees, hoping Jasper doesn’t know him well enough to see the lie. 

Clint never gets his three hours. Less than thirty minutes later, Natasha shows up with a message from Fury. “Director wants you back at HQ immediately.”

“How immediately?” Clint asks.

“Now, immediately,” Natasha responds.

Clint hands another Chitauri weapon to the containment crew and turns to Sitwell. “Check in with the other Avengers, will you?”

“I’ll deal with it,” Sitwell assures him. “Talk to Fury and get some sleep. If I see you back here within the next forty-eight hours, I will not hesitate to tranq you.”

“He won’t be back,” Natasha interjects ominously and Clint shakes his head at his fellow agents. He’ll agree to lay down, but he doubts sleep will come easily today, or ever.

~*~*~*~*~

It’s not until they’re just outside the director’s office that Clint stops to think about why Fury needs to see him so urgently. They’d already had the debate over what to do with Loki and Tesseract. The WSC, of course, wants to keep them here, but everyone else agrees that the best place for them is anywhere but Earth. Bruce and Selvig are already working out the best way to accomplish their departure.

“I don’t really care what your policy is, Director Fury. I want to see my son!” The familiar voice rises to an unfamiliar volume as the door flies open and Clint comes face to face with Jenny and David Coulson. 

Clint can’t help the small, wounded sound that escapes him as he takes a step backward in retreat, only to have Nat’s hand become an unmovable force at his back. He closes his eyes against Jenny’s sad, red-rimmed eyes, fighting the wave of despair that threatens to overwhelm him. 

Clint wishes he could cling to guilt and self-loathing, but he knows deep down that he fought every second of Loki’s control. He saved every life he could, just not the one that mattered most. With nothing left to keep it at bay, Clint staggers against the weight of his grief. Before he can fall, there is a strong arm around his waist and gentle hands cradling his face. 

“Easy, son,” David says as he supports some of Clint’s weight.

“Oh Clint,” Jenny cries, “we have been so worried about you.”

“Phil...” is all Clint can say as he clings to Jenny and leans on David. 

“We know, dear. We know,” Jenny replies, pulling Clint tighter into her embrace. “It will be okay, I promise you. We’re here. We’re here now.”

“Come on, son,” David prods after a moment, “time to go home.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Coulson, but I can’t --” Fury starts to protest.

Jenny gently pulls away from Clint, turning toward Fury with steel in her voice and fire in her eyes. “I have already lost one son and I won’t stand idly by while you take another. We are taking Clint home. He needs food and rest and his family.”

“I need him to stay in New York,” Fury insists.

“We weren’t intending to leave the city,” Jenny clarifies. “Not until Phil...”

Jenny’s voice hitches on Phil’s name and a heavy silence follows. Clint bites his lip, fighting to breathe through the tightness in his chest. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, and he feels himself on the verge of losing control. 

“I’ll drive you all back to the apartment,” Natasha offers quickly, sensing Clint’s impending collapse.

“Thanks Nat,” Clint whispers as she quickly sweeps them down the hall. 

The walk out to the SUV and drive to the apartment are a blur. Clint steps through the front door and suddenly finds his arms filled with a quietly sobbing Lizzie. Nate quickly follows, nearly bowling them over as the teenager throws his arms around them both. Clint moves one arm to wrap around Nate’s back and rests his head against the top of Lizzie’s head, unsure if he’s seeking or providing comfort.

“To bed, all of you,” Jenny orders and gently shuffles them toward the bedroom.

Clint nearly falls over while attempting to remove his boots and he shoots Nate a grateful smile when he immediately bends over to help. Jenny lets Clint shed his jacket and stow his sidearm before she prods him onto the bed.

“Sleep first,” she says and brushes her fingers through his hair.

Clint feels a momentary flash of panic at the thought of sleep, but then Lizzie is insinuating herself back into his arms and he focuses on offering what little comfort he can give. The other side of the bed dips as Nate crawls in to rest against his sister’s back, while Jenny continues to card her fingers through Clint’s hair. There’s a rustling noise from the door and Clint doesn’t need to look over to know that David is standing just inside the door. 

Clint closes his eyes and finally lets the tears fall.

~*~*~*~*~

Clint doesn’t know how long he sleeps before the first nightmare hits. His eyes fly open and he looks frantically around the room, only relaxing when he’s confirmed that his vision is clear and not tinged with icy blue. Lizzie shifts beside him and Clint listens the sounds of her and Nate’s even breathing to try and calm the rest of the panic.

When that fails, he extracts himself from the bed and stumbles into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He braces his hands on the sink, willing his heartrate to calm down. 

“Clint?” Nate asks tentatively from the open door. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” Clint replies and grabs a towel to dry off. “Just a bad dream. You should go back to sleep.”

“I have those too,” Nate confesses. “Ma always makes me warm milk to help me get back to sleep.”

Clint thinks over his options - going back to bed really doesn’t sound appealing, no matter how tired he still is. “Yeah, milk sounds great.”

They walk out to the kitchen and Clint is only mildly surprised to find Jenny already at the stove. Clint gives her a tired smile before sitting at the kitchen table with Nate. He doesn’t remember his own mother helping him through nightmares, but Jenny standing at the stove and humming to herself feels familiar and comforting. She places a cup of warm milk in front of Nate and Clint, kissing the top of their heads as she goes.

“Mmmm,” David hums as he enters the kitchen, “Any extra?”

“Of course,” Jenny answers as David sits next to Nate. She places a cup in front of her husband and then another in front of Lizzie when she straggles in to sit next to Clint.

Clint looks into his cup and can’t help wondering if this is something the family used to do with Phil. The thought is enough to sour the small amount of milk in his stomach and he pushes the cup away, knowing he won’t be able to drink any more.

“Clint?” Jenny asks in concern.

He scrubs a hand tiredly over his face, but before Clint can answer, Lizzie suddenly turns and clings to his arm.

“Please don’t go!” she cries.

“What?!” Clint exclaims, pulling Lizzie into his arms as she breaks down and starts to cry. “I don’t --”

“We know we’re not really your family,” Nate says in a rush. “Now that Phil’s gone, you don’t have to hang out with us anymore. But we really like you and we don’t want you to go away. We know you’re sad about Phil and being around us will probably suck for a while, but please, please, please don’t disappear. You’re always so nice to us and we can’t...we want --”

“Nate, calm down and breathe,” David suggests as Jenny walks over to rub Nate’s back. The teenager has tears pooling in his eyes and Lizzie lets out a broken sob against Clint’s chest. 

Clint looks imploringly at David and Jenny, unsure of what to do or say. 

“I think what they’re trying to say,” Jenny says with a smile, “is that we’ve considered you part of the family for a long time now, Clint.”

“When we saw you on the news and not Phil, we knew there was something wrong,” David adds. “It didn’t stop us coming here to find _you_.”

“We all love you,” Jenny continues. “Not just as an extension of Phil, but as part of our family.”

“I...I’ve never really had a family. I’m not sure I know how to be a part of one,” Clint responds and Lizzie looks up at him with a watery grin.

“That’s okay. Ma’s really good at telling us what to do.”

“Lizzie...” David scolds gently, but Jenny only shrugs and Clint finds himself smiling. He’s never had a family, but he can’t imagine living without the one he has now. The Coulsons, for better or for worse, are a part of his life now and Clint wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alright, back to bed,” Jenny prods after a few more minutes. 

The kids seems unwilling to let him out of their sight, so Clint falls asleep in the center of the bed sandwiched between Lizzie and Nate. It takes him a long time to fall asleep, but there are no more nightmares.


	6. When Reality Surpasses Dreams

The next time Clint wakes up, the sun is shining through the half-closed blinds. Exhaustion and despair still weighs heavily on his shoulders, but Clint’s head feels clearer than it has for the past few days. One prevailing thought can no longer be ignored - Clint needs to see Phil. He needs to confirm with his own eyes what his heart still refuses to believe.

Clint rolls out of the bed and to the closet, grabbing fresh clothes before finally jumping into the shower to wash off days of grime and sweat. Just seeing Phil’s shampoo and shower gel lined up neatly on the shelf makes his chest tighten in pain and Clint almost laughs at the absurdity of it. He forgoes shaving - hands too shaky to be trusted with a razor - and dresses quickly, resigning himself to the fact that he’ll have to move out of this apartment. There is no way Clint can live here without Phil and stay sane.

He makes his way out to the living room, finding Natasha sitting with the Coulsons. Three pairs of concerned eyes turn toward him and Clint fights not to fidget.

“Where are Lizzie and Nate?” he asks.

“I sent them back down to the grocery store,” Jenny answers. “You didn’t have much food in the apartment.”

“We haven’t been home,” Clint says. _And it will never be home again,_ he doesn’t add.

Natasha stands and walks over, laying a hand on his arm. “I just came to check on you. Don’t rush back.”

“No, wait.” Clint grabs Natasha’s hand before she can turn away. “I need you to give me a ride back to HQ.”

“Why?” Natasha frowns.

“I need to see Phil,” Clint replies. They hold each other’s gazes, long accustomed to this form of silent communication, and Natasha nods. 

“Clint, dear,” Jenny says. “Are you sure that’s necessary?”

Clint walks over to where Jenny and David are standing by the couch. He takes Jenny’s hands in his, looks into her eyes, and then up at David. “This is something I need to do or I’ll never move on. It won’t be real to me until I see him for myself.” 

“Okay,” David says, placing a hand over Clint and Jenny’s. “Would you like us to come with you?”

Clint shakes his head. “No. Not today. I need to do this on my own.”

“We understand. Will you at least eat something before you go?” Jenny asks and Clint shakes his head again.

“I promise to eat an energy bar on the way,” he responds, knowing she’ll worry if he doesn’t. “I don’t want to put this off.”

Jenny pulls her hands away to wrap her arms around Clint and David places a supportive hand on his shoulder. “We love you,” Jenny whispers. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

~*~*~*~*~

“What are you thinking, Clint?” Natasha asks as she drives him back to HQ.

“I’m not...I know he’s gone,” Clint replies. “But something isn’t right. It doesn’t make sense that Fury wouldn’t have taken me to see him. I’m his medical proxy. Protocol dictates that I identify his remains.”

“Maybe Fury didn’t want to subject you to that?” Natasha theorizes.

“Maybe,” Clint agrees, but knows from the way Natasha is frowning that she doesn’t believe it any more that he does. There is something going on beneath the surface and Clint is determined to protect Phil in death, if not in life.

The director looks almost relieved when Clint and Natasha burst into his office. Neither of them miss how Fury’s eye flicks up to the camera in the corner of the room - his office is being watched.

Clint slams his hands down hard on Fury’s desk. “Where the fuck is Phil’s body?”

“In the morgue where it belongs,” Fury replies calmly, steepling his fingers together in front of him.

“I want to see him,” Clint demands.

“He’s not suitable for viewing, agent. I had hoped to spare you that,” Fury says with the slightest tilt of his head.

Clint storms around the desk, grabs Fury by the lapels of his jacket, and shoves him against the wall.

“Clint!” Natasha protests a little too loudly to be believable to anyone who really knows her.

“I want to see Phil!” Clint yells, pushing his face into Fury’s and turning their bodies just enough so that Fury’s hand is not in view of the camera.

 _Alive,_ Fury taps against Clint’s hip and it takes all of his training and willpower not to collapse and keep up the act. _Safe...hospital...wsc,_ follows and Clint’s hands tighten their grip.

“It’s not safe for you to see him,” Fury says out loud. “The doctors are still confirming there is no residual radiation from Loki’s staff. I can’t risk you of all people coming in contact with that.”

Clint sags against Fury in false defeat and doesn’t bother to hide how his hands shake as they release their grip on the director’s jacket. “I just...I need to see Phil,” Clint says brokenly.

One of Fury’s hands comes up to pat Clint awkwardly on the shoulder while the other slips something into Clint’s pocket. “I understand that, agent, but now is not the time. Go home. We’ll contact you in a few days when it’s safe.”

Clint takes a step away to look Fury in the eye. “Yes, sir. _Thank you,_ sir.” 

Fury nods and Clint hears Natasha’s sharp intake of air as she finally gets a good read of the situation. He turns and walks briskly out of the room with Natasha at his heels, both of them fighting the compulsion to run out of HQ. 

They drive several blocks away from the building before Natasha pulls over and Clint takes out the slip of paper with trembling fingers. On the paper is an address and a room number, the sight causing Clint to collapse against the dash.

“Nat...” he says on a shuddering breath.

“Phil’s alive?” she asks and pulls the paper out of his grasp. “How?”

Clint forces himself to sit up and against the seat, mind reeling with the implications of what the director has told him. “I don’t know. Fury said something about the WSC. Nat. If they’ve infiltrated SHIELD, how do I keep him safe? What if they go after our family? What if --”

“Clint, stop,” Natasha says forcefully. “One step at a time.”

Clint takes a calming breath and finally lets himself smile. “He’s alive, Nat. Phil’s alive.”

Natasha nods and smiles back. “Then we better go find him.”

~*~*~*~*~

The address is for a small, private hospital across town. Like every other hospital in New York, it’s filled to capacity with patients and hospital staff trying to stay a step ahead of the chaos. Nobody pays any attention to the two Avengers as they make their way up to the relative quiet of the top floor and the room number Fury slipped them. Standing at the nurse’s station just outside the room they’re looking for is a familiar figure.

“Doc Roberts?” Clint asks, amazed at what lengths Fury must have gone through to orchestrate this. Roberts is the only member of SHIELD’s medical staff that Clint will voluntarily see without being sedated or forcibly dragged by Phil.

“Agents Barton, Romanoff,” the doctor greets warmly. “Glad you’re finally here. Agent Coulson is doing well and resting comfortably. We were able to repair the damage to his heart and lungs, but even with the advanced healing factor, it will take some time for everything to mend completely.”

“But he’s...he’s going to be okay?” Clint asks in a small voice.

“He’s going to be just fine,” Dr. Roberts smiles kindly. “Maybe a little cranky during recovery if I remember correctly, but he should suffer no long-term effects from his injury. You can sit with him. We were able to lower the dosage of the heavier anesthetics after the transfer from the carrier. He should be waking up soon.”

Clint turns to Natasha, but she shakes her head. “You go. I need to make a few phone calls. Stark owns this hospital,” she grins fiercely. “And nobody’s too happy with the WSC right now. We’ll keep him safe, I promise.”

“You think the Avengers will help?” Clint asks. They had fought well together and everyone had chipped in during the early days of cleanup, but helping protect Phil seems much more personal. “They barely know me.”

“For better or worse, we’re a team now,” Natasha answers. “They’ve been worried about you and I didn’t think you’d mind if I told them about Phil. The only odd reaction was from Stark. He said something about a cellist?”

Clint smiles fondly, remembering a phone conversation Pepper Potts had once stumbled in on after his prototype bow had failed spectacularly in the field. “That was Phil not always thinking fast on his feet.”

“Irrespective of that,” Natasha continues, “I don’t doubt that they’ll all be willing to help.”

“Alright,” Clint agrees, content with Natasha’s assessment. 

He pulls her in for a quick hug before she strides down the hall, phone already to her ear. Dr. Roberts gives him an encouraging smile and Clint finally opens the door to Phil’s room. 

Tears threaten again as Clint sees Phil for the first time. He is pale against the sheets, but there are fewer tubes and wires and machines than Clint had been expecting. Phil has a nasal cannula across his face, an IV line in his arm, and a sensor on his finger. His chest rises and falls steadily and the ECG next to the bed emits a comforting beep in time with Phil’s heart. Clint has never seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

Clint walks over and takes Phil’s free hand, leaning heavily against the bed as the warmth of Phil’s skin confirms that this is real - Phil is alive. He closes his eyes and lifts Phil’s hand to press a kiss against it before turning to lay it against his cheek. He lets out a long, shaky breath and, with every beat of Phil’s heart, feels his own slowly restart. 

The hand in his grip twitches and Clint’s eyes fly open, watching intently as Phil’s eyes flutter open. Phil blinks a few times before he fully focuses on Clint. 

“Clint?” Phil says hoarsely. “Thank God you’re alive.”

Clint lets out a choked sob and falls forward into Phil, leaning away and resting his forehead on Phil’s shoulder when the older man grunts in pain. He laughs a little hysterically as Phil’s hand comes up to rest on the back of his head. 

“I think that’s my line,” Clint replies, sitting up and brushing his tears away. “Jesus, Phil.”

“I don’t understand. What happened?” Phil asks, his brow creasing with confusion. He struggles to sit up and grimaces in pain.

“Careful,” Clint scolds gently and helps lift Phil’s bed to a more upright position. “Doc said you were doing well, but are far from fully healed.” 

Phil only looks more confused and Cllint scrubs a hand over his face before taking Phil’s hand again. He feels wrung out, the roller coaster of emotions from the last few days finally catching up with him. “Do you remember going after Loki on your own?”

Phil closes his eyes with a nod and Clint assumes he’s mentally chastising himself. 

“All I could think about was getting you back,” Phil admits, looking back up at Clint. “I got careless.”

Clint grips his hand tighter and tries not to let guilt overcome him. He came way too close to losing Phil for good.

“Fury let everyone think you were dead,” Clint tells him. 

“What?! Everyone?” Phil cries, aghast. 

“Everyone,” Clint answers. “SHIELD, the Avengers, me, your family...”

“Oh God.”

A strange giddiness overcomes Clint and he can’t help smiling, suddenly finding amusement in the turn of events now that it’s no longer tragic. “I don’t think they ever really believed we were just FBI agents, but the cat’s pretty much out of the bag now. Especially considering all the news footage and you miraculously coming back from the dead. Can we change your call sign to Lazarus?”

“Clint...” Phil admonishes.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Too soon?” 

Clint grins. He’s just too damn happy that Phil is alive to really focus on how everything had been so horribly wrong for days. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” Phil responds with an indulgent smile.

“Yeah,” Clint says and sobers a little. “About that. You should probably marry me before Ma decides to adopt me. It might make sex together a little strange if we’re technically siblings.”

Phil’s mouth opens in shock. “Did you just propose to me over a joke about incest and while I’m laid up in a hospital bed?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Clint winces. “I meant it though. Marry me, Phil.”

“Of course I’ll marry you,” Phil responds, pulling Clint closer for a kiss. “For the record, my plans included a nice dinner, a romantic speech, and lots of sex.”

“That’s because you’re a sap,” Clint teases fondly. “The whole not-really-dead thing makes mine a much better story.

Phil groans. “You are never telling our kids how you proposed.”

Clint grins goofily at Phil’s mention of them having kids. He imagines that Ma already has a list of agencies waiting for them. They smile happily at each other for a moment before Phil’s eyes cloud with concern.

“So everyone thinks I’m dead, but I’m not,” Phil says with a frown. “Since you’re not threatening to eviscerate Nick, I assume he had good reason to keep up the charade. What now?”

Clint opens his mouth to tell Phil about the battle, the nuke, and the WSC before changing his mind. They’ll have plenty of time to worry and discuss everything once the others arrive. For now, he just wants to enjoy Phil being alive. 

“It...really doesn’t matter,” Clint responds. “We won, Loki’s in chains, and you’re alive. Everything else will work itself out.”

Phil looks ready to argue, but stops himself to take a long look at Clint, who smiles serenely and brushes a lock of hair off Phil’s forehead. Clint is confident that, even if the path life lays before him is far from smooth, he won’t need to walk it alone. He has good friends, a loving family, the beginnings of a team and, most importantly, Clint has Phil.

Phil pulls Clint back down until their foreheads are touching. “Yeah.” he whispers, “Yeah, okay, Clint.”

~*~*~*~*~

They get an hour to themselves before the Coulsons and the Avengers descend on Phil’s room. The reunion is filled with both laughter and tears and Phil is amazed by how happy the Avengers are to have him back. Nate and Lizzie gape in awe of everything their brother has been involved in, while Jenny and David take it all in stride. Clint never lets go of Phil’s hand.

Dr. Roberts gives the go ahead to move Phil into Stark Tower the next day and it’s not until they’re safely inside their new suite that Clint feels free from the WSC’s reach. The Avengers send Thor, Loki, and the Tesseract back to Asgard the next day. 

The news stations play a continuous stream of the Avengers in action for months, including video footage of Clint rescuing civilians from a bus caught in the crossfire. The city and the world rally around the Avengers and the WSC has no power to stop it.

Three months after the failed Chitauri invasion, Clint and Phil stand in the Coulson’s backyard and recite the vows that will forever bind them together as a family. 

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ghfan98's original prompt:
> 
> _I am a fan Phil and Clint. I particularly enjoy stories that involve Phil's family. If you could, I would like a story that has Clint being accepted by the Coulsons without knowing that he and Phil work for SHIELD. I would like to see a protective family gather around Clint during the aftermath of the Battle in NY when everyone still thinks Phil is dead and their secrets have been reveled after seeing Hawkeye fighting on TV._
> 
> _I have this image of Mama Coulson taking on Fury on behalf of her "son" Clint._
> 
> _Definitely should be a "fix-it", "Coulson" lives in the end._
> 
> The prompt filled me with so many feels that I ended up writing over 10k of backstory on Clint and Coulsons. I hope I was able to do it justice.
> 
> Thank you, again, for bidding on me during the auction.
> 
> <3 Raven


End file.
